On the night time of June 15, 2025, my life cut up in two: Earlier than the autumn. And after.
I wasn’t being reckless. It wasn’t a dare or some wild stunt. It was simply… life. A lovely night time that turned, right away, into one thing I by no means might have predicted. Then—blinding ache, paralyzing confusion, and the terrifying realization: I couldn’t really feel my proper leg.
From that second, all the things grew to become a blur of hospital lights, morphine drips, and strangers’ fingers rolling me onto my facet for scans—what they referred to as “log-rolling.” I felt like a shell of myself. I used to be barely awake, floating out and in of medicated sleep, jolted again to actuality solely by ache and worry. My physique was now not mine.
The damage was critical. I used to be transported between two hospitals till I lastly landed at a specialised trauma facility. That’s the place I first heard the prognosis: Posterior lumbar spinal fusion with instrumentation from L2 to L5. My vertebrae had collapsed. Titanium rods and screws can be inserted to stabilize my backbone, and the broken discs between them can be repaired.
Surgical procedure was scheduled for the very subsequent morning—June 16. What was presupposed to be a 1.5–2-hour process stretched to almost 4. My backbone, now fused and strengthened, had turn into one thing I didn’t but perceive. I used to be grateful. I used to be terrified. And I used to be alive.
After I awoke, I couldn’t inform what damage extra: my again, my delight, or the worry that my physique would by no means be mine once more. However the numbness in my leg had lessened—and that felt like a miracle.
The treatment protocol post-op was intense. I had by no means been prescribed ache meds in my life, and now I used to be taking Soma for muscle spasms, Gabapentin for nerve ache, and oxy-based painkillers simply to get via the day. I didn’t acknowledge myself within the mirror, however I held on to at least one fact: I used to be therapeutic.
Inpatient bodily remedy began the very subsequent day. That they had me strolling—with a walker—simply 24 hours after my backbone had been minimize open and rebuilt. I couldn’t bend. I couldn’t raise greater than 5 kilos. However I might transfer. And that motion, nonetheless small, felt revolutionary.
By Thursday—4 days post-op—I used to be discharged. To not a rehab facility. Dwelling. That alone felt like a large victory. They despatched me off with strict orders: no twisting, no swimming for 90 days, no sitting upright for lengthy intervals. They informed me to get a raised bathroom seat, a bathe chair, and stool softeners (as a result of nobody warns you ways brutal post-surgery constipation might be). And naturally, cautious cleansing across the incision website—by no means immediately on it.
I lived in sundresses as a result of even the softest shorts put an excessive amount of strain on my hips. Mendacity flat was the one method I felt reduction. Sitting upright compressed my backbone and lit up each nerve in protest. Even the smallest actions—mendacity right down to sitting, sitting to standing, standing to mendacity again down—felt monumental.
However I used to be doing it. By Friday, I now not wanted the walker. My ache was nonetheless intense, particularly on the appropriate facet, however I used to be strolling. I used to be up. I used to be alive.
I haven’t been cleared for bodily remedy but (that’ll come after my two-week post-op appointment), however I’m setting small targets within the meantime: brushing my hair once more. Doing my make-up. Wanting within the mirror and seeing an individual, not only a affected person.
What individuals don’t let you know is that the trauma doesn’t cease when the surgical procedure ends. I’ve struggled mentally. Deeply. I used to be hesitant to speak concerning the accident as a result of I didn’t wish to appear fragile. However I’m studying that sharing isn’t weak spot—it’s therapeutic.
This wasn’t my first brush with loss of life. 5 years in the past, I had one other life-altering accident. I referred to as that one a “come-to-Jesus” second. This one? This one feels extra like a divine reroute. I don’t absolutely perceive why, however I imagine there’s a better plan unfolding.
At 1.5 weeks post-op, I nonetheless don’t know if the aches I really feel are from the {hardware}, the incision, or my nerves attempting to reconnect. I can’t see my scars but. I’m unsure if what I’m feeling is titanium or trauma. Perhaps each. The ache is worse on the appropriate facet. Wet days make all the things ache—I’ve apparently turn into a human barometer.
My surgeon, Dr. Wylie Lopez at OIBOrtho, has been unbelievable. At my 2–3 week follow-up, he informed me I’m progressing quicker than common. I’ve gone from lifting 5 kilos to 10. Three of my 4 bandages are off. One incision remains to be weeping, however not contaminated. I’ve obtained yet another month within the brace—and no, I haven’t set off any steel detectors but.
Mentally, I’m stronger than I anticipated. I used to spend hours watching YouTube movies of this actual surgical procedure—each scientific breakdowns and affected person POVs. I fell right into a rabbit gap of worry and obsession. However dwelling via it? It’s modified all the things. Sure, spinal fusion is among the most typical surgical procedures in America—however that doesn’t imply it’s straightforward.
It’s terrifying. Earlier than. Throughout. After.
Nevertheless it’s additionally miraculous. I broke my again. I survived. I walked out of the hospital 4 days later. And I’m therapeutic—not simply bodily, however emotionally and spiritually.
In the event you’re dealing with again surgical procedure—or you realize somebody who’s—please know: you’re not alone. The highway is tough. However the human physique is extra resilient than we give it credit score for. And the human spirit? Much more so.
I joke typically that my again brace appears like a BBL faja. Humor helps. Particularly on the exhausting days.
That is the reality: I don’t know precisely the place this highway will take me. However I do know I’m not the identical one that lay damaged in that hospital mattress. I’m stronger now. Not regardless of the titanium in my backbone—however due to it.
And I’m nonetheless studying to face.
Photograph Credit: Bridget Mulroy
